


A Single Step

by BluePeople



Category: Kushiel's Legacy - Jacqueline Carey
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-27
Updated: 2011-12-27
Packaged: 2017-10-28 05:28:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/304267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BluePeople/pseuds/BluePeople
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set during Kushiel's Scion.  Mavros wants to help Imri test his wings.</p><p>Warnings:  No sex, but there's nudity and Imri/Mavros impact play.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Single Step

**Author's Note:**

  * For [norgbelulah](https://archiveofourown.org/users/norgbelulah/gifts).



“I wish you a wonderful night, but I won’t go with you.”  It must have been the thousandth time Mavros had dropped a hint, but I knew that Valerian House was the last place on earth I would feel comfortable.

Phedre stepped in at last, with a protective hand on my arm.  “Imri is right, Mavros.”

“But he still doesn’t _understand_.”  Mavros’s voice was tight and frustrated.  “Anything.  And he’s made no effort to learn.”

I could see why he would think so, but I _was_ making an effort.  I just wasn’t making any progress.  His weeks of patient, constant pressure had gotten us nowhere.

I wondered for a moment whether Phedre would take my side or his, but of course she sidestepped the question neatly.  “Shahrizai or no, do you imagine Imri fitting in at Valerian House?”

It was silent for a moment.  “No,” Mavros admitted at last.  “As patrons we’re expected to be in control.  But he’s the one afraid...  He needs someone…”  He trailed off.

“Someone…?”  Her smile was polite.  She had the answer, I could see it.  But she would rather Mavros – or I – figured it out alone.

He took a deep breath.  “Someone like _you_ , my lady.  Doesn’t he?  Not you yourself, of course, that would be…”

“Obscene,” I put in.  “And I _am_ standing right here, Mavros, in case you’ve forgotten.”

Phedre patted my hand as if I were a small and nosy child.  “Of course, love, we haven’t forgotten,” she soothed absently, then turned her attention back to my cousin.  “But I think you’ve got it backwards.  He needs someone he won’t fear for, that’s true, but no one like me.  It _frightens_ him to see someone enjoying pain.”

Mavros immediately looked uncomfortable – a point in his favor, as far as I was concerned.  “Well- I know but… my lady, we can’t, none of us, none would hurt someone who wasn’t willing.”

“Mavros, there is a world of difference between _willingness_ and _enjoyment_.”  She turned to me.  “I’ve seen you do considerable damage on the practice field, Imri.  I’ve seen you whack a boy with the flat of your blade til he drops his weapons and begs mercy.  And I haven’t seen it disturb you.”

I conceded the point with a nod.  It was true: violent training sessions did not disturb me and in fact I found them distinctly pleasurable.  But still I was slow to see where this was going.

Mavros was a little quicker.  “I would consent, my lady.  Whatever Imri wants to do.”

*******************************************

In a way I was glad of the chance to explore these things – how could I not be, when the thought of them had tormented me so hard and so incessantly?  And yet I was still terrified, and a little angry, somewhere, that I had been so easily goaded and manipulated into what might well be a horrifying disaster.  Mavros had known exactly what to say, exactly what lazy challenging smile to flash me… and Phedre had been right there beside him, harmonizing with him, smooth and seamless as if they’d been allies all their lives.

It was that, more than anything, that decided me.  Phedre and Mavros had known what to say because they understood themselves and they understood me.   They had played off one another perfectly.  But between Phedre and me, all our love notwithstanding, there would always be some gap I could not bridge until I understood these desires that were so big a part of her life and mine.  Until I could face them without shame.  Without fear.

Mavros, of course, had no fear.  He stood before me in a well-equipped pleasure room, hands loose at his sides, eyes clear and almost merry.  Locked on mine.  “I’m ready, Imri.” 

We knew this evening wasn’t going to teach me everything.  It wouldn’t be the same as sharing Kushiel’s gift with someone who truly yearned for it.  But it would, we hoped, teach me not to flinch from the sound of whip on flesh.  It would help me see that I could strike someone, and enjoy it, and everything would be all right.  It would free me to begin exploring the rest.

I took a deep breath and nodded.  “Your _signale_?”

Mavros smirked.  “Do you really think I’ll need one?”  I gave him a look and he shrugged.  “Sunshine.”

“All right.”  I could hear my voice hardening up, cold and nervous.  “Strip.”

“As you wish, cousin.  If you’re sure you don’t want to do it for me.”  He undressed and headed nude towards the whipping cross, but I stopped him.

“No – the table.”   Whether or not I liked the idea of seeing him stretched tight and lashed to a frame, I knew I was not yet ready for such a thing.  The table was better.  For now, at least, I needed to know with my whole being that what I had was a willing participant.  Never held by force.  Never a prisoner.

So I pushed aside the collection of implements I’d laid out on the table, and bent him over it.  I moved his arms up above his head.  “Do you think you can hold still for me?” I whispered into his ear.

He turned his face towards me, eyes glittering.  “I’ll hold still.”

“No matter what I do to you?”

At that, a tiny, _tiny_ glimmer of fear… but he spoke up quick enough.  “No matter what.”  He grasped the far edge of the table and waited.

“Good.”  I put my hands on him at last, kneading the firm muscle of his buttocks and then dealing a few light slaps.  “I’ll get a paddle.”

“Excellent idea.”

********************************

I started slowly and carefully, never lingering too long in one spot, pinking his thighs and buttocks so gradually that the rhythm became almost soothing for both of us.  It was some time before he seemed to feel pain, but when he did, his soft gasps and grunts pleased me more than I had expected.

I wanted to draw more of them.  I hit him a little sharper, two or three times on a spot before moving.  Before long he was squirming, and his back had started to gleam in the firelight.  I hit harder – still steadily, and still without pause.  After a while he groaned my name.

“Yes?” I spoke without stopping.

“This… this patience of yours… is going to kill me.”

I knew it would be easier for him if I lost control, spent all my violence in a quick agonizing flurry of blows, gave one of us cause to beg off.  But I wouldn’t do that.  Not because I didn’t want to hit him hard – Elua help me I _did_ , the idea was making _me_ break out in a sweat also – but because I wanted the beating to last.  Watching him writhe slowly against the table was intoxicating. 

“Well, you know what you can say to stop me,” I said.  I was amazed at how calm I sounded.  Amazed to see _my_ hand swinging the paddle that drew these moans.  “Or you can just keep quiet, and take what I give you.”

He laughed softly, nodding, and did his best to relax.

I didn’t plan to draw his _signale_ or even come close; I did not want to have to worry for him.  But I did want to hear him cry out, so I began hitting him a little harder.  I saw him bite his lip – he wasn’t going to make it easy.

So much the better.

****************************************

He did eventually have to beg a reprieve.  He had yelped once or twice, short noises of pain that I relished, but on the whole he had mostly kept his silence.  That changed when I set to hitting one spot over and over again with the paddle, hard and fast.

He endured it for maybe thirty seconds before he broke.  “ _Ah_ \- Imri please,”  he gasped at last.  “Please… I’m on fire… Elua’s balls- _ah!_ ”

I waited a bit longer between strokes now, but kept them coming as hard as ever.  “Too much?” I taunted.  “Then kneel and say so.  And then I’ll show you mercy.  Not before.”  

He held out a few blows more, whimpering through closed lips, but eventually the pain overcame his pride and he sank down, sliding from the table to the floor.   I held the paddle out for him to kiss.  He did, and then grasped my hand hard and kissed that, too.  “You don’t have to stop, Imri.  You don’t.  Just give me a moment.  Please.”

“Hands and knees,” I said ruthlessly.  “Let me see.”  I knelt beside him so I could examine him up close: his skin was bright vivid red and hot to the touch.   I took my time going over him, to give him that moment he’d asked for, because we were by no means finished.  When I stroked him gently he shivered, arched, moaned _Imri yes._

After a while I pinched.  A light pinch, but still it made him gasp.  I saw his muscles bulge when he flinched, kneeling there of his own free will _for me_ , and I gave in to the urges coursing through me.  There was a cane on the table within reach; I leaned over and snatched it up.  “Brace yourself, Mavros.  This will hurt.”

As soon as he’d taken a deep breath I cracked him hard across the buttocks.  He pitched forward, forehead plunking down against the carpet as his body arched and flexed wildly.

Cousin or not, I found his suffering very attractive.  “Beautiful,” I said, laying a soothing hand against his lower back.  I could hear my voice shaking.  “Take time if you need it.  Present yourself when you’re ready.”

He dragged himself up at once, arching to offer me his welted behind.  “I don’t need pity; I can handle whatever you can,” he said breathlessly.

I laughed and also rose to the challenge: I hit him again, hard, and then a second time before the pain even registered.  Then I had to wait while he fell again, swearing softly and airily as if he were about to cry.

After a moment he brought himself back into position.  His head was bowed, his whole body trembled, but he waited there without flinching. 

“Take as many more as you can in a row, without moving, and then we’ll move on to something else,” I suggested.  I saw him relax, felt the gratitude pouring off of him, and all of a sudden I felt almost dizzy, enjoying my power – _really_ enjoying it – for the first time.

“Yes, cousin,” he said.  And I did it.

I didn’t hold back.  I swung the cane hard, fast, slicing into his poor reddened flesh until he cried out… and then continued on until he really gave up.  I stopped when he threw himself to the floor.  It was eight strokes by my count, eight savage strokes, and I was impressed by how well he – and I – took it.

For a while it was silent, and I just rubbed his back while he shook against the floor.  He spoke first.  “How are you, Imri?”  He reached out to take my hand.

“Me?”  I looked down at the marks I had left, and at Mavros gripping me firmly.  “I’m well.  What about you?”

He turned over, slowly, wincing when the welts met carpet.  He arched to hold his hips off the ground.   “I’m all right.”  His smile was a little sheepish.   “As I damn well _should_ be; this is half of what a little Valerian adept gets from me – on an easy night.”

I was overcome with affection all of a sudden, and a need to touch.  I reached out to tug his braids.  “Well, you’re not a little Valerian adept,” I pointed out.  “And that makes all the difference to me.”  The way he was arched put his stomach muscles on display, taut and defined, and I laid my hand over them. 

“What are you thinking?” he said after a moment.

I was thinking of what his abdomen would look like if I welted it up to match his buttocks.  At the idea of saying such a thing aloud, though, the surge of desire was overwhelmed by an even bigger surge of fear.  I froze.  I removed my hand.

“Imri?”  There was concern in his voice now, and he lowered himself carefully to the floor.  “What’s wrong?  Do you want to stop?”

After everything he had done for me, the least I could do was be honest with him.  “No,” I admitted, “I _don’t_ want to stop.”

A slow smile spread across his face.  “And _that’s_ what’s wrong?”

I shrugged.

“I’m proud of you, cousin.”  I didn’t quite know what to say to that, and he reached up to pinch my cheek.  “Is our little Imri blushing?”

The warmth of his pleasure melted a great deal of my anxiety away, all at once, and I grinned back at him.  “Are you sure teasing me is a good idea?”

Mavros glowed with challenge.   I patted his stomach and ordered him to tense it, and reached for the cane.

  



**********************************

The End.

Hope you enjoyed!  Please let me know what you think.


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